Pretend It Doesn't Matter
by nefarious-marshmallow
Summary: Five years after their divorce, Draco still sends Hermione Christmas presents. Hermione begrudgingly acts in return....but Draco has his own wily plans for the holidays.


**Pretend it Doesn't Matter**

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.   
  
            _"Promise me you'll never forget this day," he whispered fiercely, brushing aside the mass of tangled hair from her ear. "Promise me, Granger."   
  
            "I-I-" she gasped, her voice smothered by the fingers rubbing her mouth, trembling and swollen from his kisses. "I promise! I promise I won't."  
  
            "That's what I thought," he replied, and melted into her._   
  
           

            They'd broken it off suddenly and with seemingly little consideration, citing "irreconcilable differences" as their reason for divorce. The relationship had lasted two years; the marriage, barely three.  
  
            The union of a Pureblood and a Muggle-born, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, a Malfoy and Granger was first received by the public with shock, then disgust, and when they realized the sincerity of Draco and Hermione's feelings, enchantment. Five years later, their breakup became the object of scandal, mingled with astonishment and disappointment.   
  
            Hermione reflected on this as she traipsed down the icy London sidewalks. The whole thing had started rather stupidly, really. She'd told the story to Harry and Ron, as as indignant as she was at their caustic laughter it couldn't be denied that she and Malfoy did tend to overreact about the pettiest, most trivial things.   
  
           

            _"That's my quill, Malfoy," Hermione hissed at the boy sitting beside her in Arithmancy.  
  
            "Oh really," he drawled, without looking at her. "It's mine now."  
  
            "I need to take notes! Give me my quill!" Hermione commanded, attempting to snatch it from his spindly fingers, which were now balancing the quill carefully out of her reach.  
  
            "Why should I?" he asked lazily, this time glaring condescendingly at her with steely eyes. "Why don't you use what do you call it - ah yes, a pencil, Mudblood?"  
  
            "Accio quill!"  
  
            Before Hermione knew what was happening, she and Malfoy were on the floor, their books and chairs toppled over beside them. "You stupid girl," Malfoy spat. "What do you think you're doing?!"  
  
            Professor Vector seemed to wonder the same thing. "What are you two doing back there?" she boomed, pausing from her work. "A night's detentions for both of you, and five points from each of your houses for disrupting the class."  
  
            "But - but-" Hermione stammered.   
  
            "I thought you had more common sense than to cast spells during a lecture, Miss Granger," Professor Vector snapped, "And Mr. Malfoy," she added, catching him sniggering. "Keeping your hands on your own things is something you were taught in nursery school."  
  
            This caused Malfoy to shut up immediately. Meanwhile, Hermione scowled at the prospect of wasting a study night in detention with none other than Draco Malfoy._  
  
           

            Hermione stopped just outside of an Armani store and heaved a sigh of relief upon seeing that it was still open. Instead of going in, however, she extracted an age-battered photograph from her back pocket and unfolded it.   
  
            The picture was uncharacteristically stained and tattered for one of Hermione's belongings, but as she unfolded it and stared at the faces beaming at her, all signs of wear seemed to disappear.  
  
            The two young people in the photograph seemed to be lost in their own universe. On the left, Draco, clean-cut and smirking as usual, snaked his arm around his bride's waist, who blushed and nuzzled against him in return. Behind them, the inky darkness of the coming night bruised the sunset blue and purple, hiding the clouds floating decadently above the shore.   
  
            She only looked at that picture once a year, and that was only to remind herself of what she'd lost and left behind five years ago. With Draco, she'd lived in prosperity at the top of the social heirachy; without him, she was just another single young witch struggling to keep a job and pay the bills. She'd been the top student at Hogwarts during her time, but facing the outside world, she was only one out of a horde of eager, job-seeking intellectuals fresh from the mill.   
              
            Draco had provided her with money, shelter, status, and yes, even love on occasion, but as the social anomaly in a long line of pureblooded wizards, Hermione often felt stifled and awkward. Sometimes, it seemed like Draco hardly cared about what she felt, as long as she was available at his command.   
  
           

            _"Hermione?"  
  
            Hermione jumped slightly and turned around to see Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway of the Astronomy Tower.   
  
            "What are you doing here?" he asked, stepping out of the darkness and into the moonlight streaming in through the open window.  
  
            "I should ask the same of you," Hermione replied, turning back to her star chart. "I was doing my Astronomy homework, you know, until I was so rudely interrupted...."  
  
            Draco smirked and sat down beside her. "Homework on a Saturday night!" he said, with mock derisiveness. "I should have known."   
  
            "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Hermione sighed resignedly, putting down her chart.   
  
            Draco leaned in until their shoulders touched. "You know," he said, curling an arm around her waist. He paused as Hermione tensed, then relaxed. "If we're really __dating, we should call each other by our first names."  
  
            "Fine, Draco," said Hermione. "If you think that sounds any better than 'Malfoy.'"  
  
            Draco raised his eyebrow and smirked again. "You really must love me, Hermione - you're sounding more and more like me each day."  
  
            "Ah, the pitfalls of going out with you," she said, dropping her sarcastic tone and hugging him around the waist. "First my friends nearly stone me to death, then I'm diagnosed with Stockholm syndrome, and now I'm turning into your female version, and.all thanks to you childishly stealing my quill. Which, I might remind you, you haven't returned yet."  
  
            "Hey," Draco said smugly. "The fact that it's me you're going out with makes it all worth it. Imagine if it were Weasel or Pothead or a Hufflepuff, I think I'd blow a capillary...."  
Hermione punched him playfully. "Sometimes I wonder how I can stand that fat head of yours."  
  
            "A fatter head means more of me to love," said Draco, pulling her against him._  
  
           

            Tucking the picture in her back pocket, Hermione entered the store, tentatively perusing the racks of fancy dress shirts and coats.   
  
            "Looking for something in particular?" A gangly sales assistant approached her holding an armful of hangers.  
  
            "No, not really, but thank you," Hermione replied politely.  
  
            "It's a little late to be doing your Christmas shopping, isn't it?" he asked, picking up more hangers. "Let me guess - a distant cousin showed up unexpectedly at your Christmas party? You received a generous package from your uncle knowing very well you didn't send him one?"  
  
            "Ah-hah yes, you've got that right," Hermione chuckled lamely, silently wishing he'd busy himself with someone else.  
  
            And almost as if by magic, he did, and she found herself alone and surrounded by aisles of clothing and glass cases filled with shimmering watches and tie clips.  
  
           

            _"It took me forever to find this, you know. You should thank me."  
  
            "Ohhh....it's wonderful! I love it!"  
  
            "I'll take that as gratitude."  
  
            "How 'bout this?"  
  
            ......  
  
            "That'll do too."  
  
            "I never thought I'd receive a present from you that wasn't a cursed object or a bomb of some sort."  
  
            "Just try it on, Hermione, I spent days looking for something that'd do your beauty justice."  
  
            "It's charm like that that reminds me of how I fell in love with you in the first place."  
  
            "Just shut up and give me my present."_   
  
           

            Nearly an hour had passed and Hermione still failed to find anything remotely satisfying.  
  
            Shopping for Draco usually wasn't very difficult, but maybe the fact that it'd been half a decade since she'd last spoken to him made it a little harder to find anything for her ex-husband.  
  
            It wasn't as if she'd hand it to him in person, anyway. She would simply lay it on his doorstep, wrapped simply and with a small card attached, just the way he'd done the first Christmas after their divorce. That night, she set one on his doorstep as well, and so it continued year after year.   
  
            Why she and Draco still continued the tradition of Christmas gift-giving puzzled and perplexed her. She still remembered the first Christmas present she received from him after their divorce; a silky pearl-white scarf that glimmered iridescently in the sunlight. Although he'd had the decency to include a card, the message written in it was less than affectionate -  
  
            _"Something to keep you warm when there's no one to hold you near. - D.M."_  
  
            Nevertheless, Hermione dropped off a soft black dress shirt on his doorstep, with a short, curt message attached:  
  
            _"For old times' sake. Enjoy - H.G."_  
  
           

            The gangly sales assistant popped up next to Hermione again. "Store's closing, miss,"        he said, obscuring the glass cases with heavy velvet cloth.   
  
            "No - wait!" Hermione protested, feverishly scanning the rows of clothing and watch displays. "Give me just a few more minutes, sir, please, this is very important."  
  
            The man twitched his eyebrow disdainfully before turning back to the velvet cloth. "Very well then. But don't expect any discounts."   
  
            _"I....I don't know what to say, Draco."   
  
            "Say yes, and then let's go," Draco pleaded, locking his silvery eyes with her dark brown ones.   
  
            "But now?" Hermione asked, twisting her ring with quiet incredulity. "It's Christmas."  
  
            Draco smiled and brushed a snowflake off her nose. "And having you as my bride will be the best present I could ever ask for."  
  
            Hermione thought for a few seconds, and then nodded slowly. "Come on then," Draco laughed, took her gloved hand in his frosty one, and pulled her behind him as he ran down the icy sidewalk.  
  
            "Where are we going?" Hermione yelled, dodging last-minute Christmas shoppers and a Father Christmas with several elves in tow.   
              
            Draco didn't answer, but led her up a hill, where a man clad in black stood serenely behind a cluster of pine trees.  
  
            "Don't tell me you arranged all this without me!" Hermione exclaimed. "I only just gave you my answer!"  
  
            "I didn't need Occlumency to know what it'd be," Draco replied, taking her in his arms.   
  
            "But....but what will everyone say? What will everyone think?" Hermione queried, her brown eyes wide and anxious.   
  
            "You know, I don't think it really matters," Draco murmured, pulling her shivering body closer.   
  
            And for that moment, and the rest of the night, nothing else did._   
  
           

            Hermione Apparated into the wealthy neighborhood Draco resided in. She hated seeing the little cafés that she and Draco used to dine at, the boutiques with expensive gowns Draco was only too eager to buy for her. She winced at the sight of the once charming cobblestone paths, the cauldron peddlers, the Victorian houses with their lush English gardens....  
  
            She kept her hood up as she made her way down the snow-covered sidewalks, keeping the small gift bag tucked inconspicuously between her ribs and the crook of her elbow. There was no use in anyone's seeing her here and giving cause to rumors that she and Draco were getting back together.  
  
            Hermione finally stopped at an elegant light grey pseudo-mansion surrounded by formidable walls and a newly-erected iron gate. Whipping out her wand once more, Hermione fumbled with the lock and murmured, _"Alohomora."_  
  
            Nothing happened. _"Alohomora,"_ Hermione whispered again, this time a little more coherently. Figuring that Malfoy had put extra security on the solid, bar-less gates, Hermione tossed the gift bag over it and hoped it'd land on a bush or a thick flower patch.   
  
            But there was no thump to be heard. The gift never landed.  
  
            The gate clicked open. Hermione froze.

            _"I'll always remember this, Granger," he laughed, twisting a loose curl between his pale, slender fingers. "You, and - "  
  
            "What did you call me?" Hermione sat up quickly, but Draco pinned her back down, a grin twisting onto his lips when he saw the alarm in her eyes.  
  
            "The scent of your hair...." He brought a mass of toffee-colored tendrils to his nose. "So sweet and innocent and delicious." He tugged her hair tighter and burrowed his mouth under the back of her jaw. "The taste of your skin....like milk and nutmeg...."  
  
            Hermione gasped and turned her head. "Stop it, Draco, you've been drinking...."  
  
            "Malfoy and Mudblood, imagine that," he laughed again, ignoring her resistance. "Malfoy on top of Mudblood....Mudblood moaning at Malfoy's touch." His fingers slithered down her torso and plunged into her thigh.   
  
            "Draco, please stop," Hermione whimpered, squirming under him. "Please stop...."  
  
            Draco lifted his head and watched the tears glistening on her trembling porcelain cheeks. "You're begging to me. I like that. And don't address me by my first name, Granger." He grinned again, that drunken, twisted grin and gripped her cheeks, smearing the moisture flowing out of her swollen eyes.   
  
            "Draco, no...." Hermione sobbed again, her free hand rummaging the bedside table in frantic search of her wand. As soon as she found it, Draco looked up and began to laugh again, except that this time it was a laugh Hermione had never known or even heard, a laugh oozing with triumph, stealth, greed, and the drink. But during mid-cackle his eyes lost their laugher and intensity and with a muffled "ughh" Draco collapsed lifelessly onto his wife.  
  
            "Draco?" Hermione pleaded gingerly, putting down her wand and prodding him on the shoulder. "Draco?"  
  
            Draco answered only with silence. Sobbing quietly once more, Hermione squeezed out from under her husband, turned him on his side, and held him gently for the rest of the night._  
  
           

            Hermione felt her cheeks pale, then redden, as she peered into her ex-husband's eyes, which showed little surprise at the sight of her. She'd almost forgotten how cold they were.   
  
            He looked her over casually, leaving what felt like little trails of frost where his eyes had wandered. "So," he said finally, swinging the bag between his and Hermione's faces, "dropped something, my dear?"  
  
            "I - you - why - "  
  
            Draco sighed with mock frustration and lowered the bag. "After five years with no contact, the sight of me still renders her speechless. " Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose." (1)  
  
            "You bloody well know we've had contact," Hermione spluttered, finding her voice at last. "Merry Christmas, Malfoy, and a happy New Year."   
  
            "Ah-ah-ah, not so fast, love," Draco drawled, gripping her cloaked arm tightly. "Won't you stay and have a drink?"  
  
            Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please, Malfoy, I wouldn't have a drink with you if - "  
  
            "For good times' sake, darling."  
  
            "Would you stop calling me those things?" Hermione snapped, wriggling out of his grasp. "Need I remind you that the two of us are divorced?! So please, if you have any decency, let me-"  
"I'll take that as a yes," Draco chuckled, roughly yanking her inside the gate. "In you go, then, dear - I mean, Mudblood."  
  
            A loud "MALFOY!" and a resounding slam interrupted the quiet tranquility of the Christmas Eve. Then all was peaceful again, save for the sound of _White Christmas_ blaring from the house flanked by iron walls.  
  
           

            _"That was quick."   
  
            Hermione slid her trunk toward the door and pulled on her overcoat. "I assume you want me out of your sight as quickly as possible."  
  
            "You know me well, Hermione," Draco quipped dryly, not looking up from his newspaper. "You silly woman, why are you going when I specifically told you that it is I who is leaving? I promised you a home and now you're leaving it. Don't you know that Malfoys always keep their promises?"  
              
            Hermione burst into hysterical, cynical laughter. "Did I just hear what I thought I heard? 'Malfoys always keep their promises?' Like, let's see, their marriage vows? Correct me if I'm wrong, Malfoy, but your breaking it off with me doesn't exactly agree with 'til death do us part.' Goodbye, Draco."  
  
            Draco laid down his newspaper and looked up at her. "Before you go, dear, do go and make me a cup of Earl Grey, will you?"  
  
            He was answered only with the slam of the front door and a muffled "have a nice life!" Sighing to himself, Draco ventured into the kitchen to fix himself something strongly alcoholic._   
  
                                                                                                  
           

            "Let me out of here at once, you monstrous inbreed!"  
  
            Draco tucked his wand in his back pocket and strolled toward the kitchen. "What would you like to drink, Granger? Tea? freshly brewed coffee? Nutmeg, red wine even?"  
  
            "This could be considered kidnapping, Malfoy!" Hermione yelled, vainly struggling against her body-bind. "This is a serious crime, Malfoy, and I swear, once I get out of this body-bind, so God help me, I'm going to call the police!"  
  
            "Crumpets?" Draco yelled above the music thundering off the walls. "Biscuits? I'm afraid the Christmas pudding hasn't arrived yet."  
  
            "DRACO MALFOY, WILL YOU FORGET THE BLOODY FOOD AND TURN OFF THAT - THAT - " Hermione paused, pricking her ears. "Is that Nat King Cole I hear? Why Malfoy, are you listening to _Muggle music?_"  
  
            Draco floated two wine glasses and a saucer of sugar cookies to the coffee table. "It was an old record of yours," he replied nonchalantly, urging the food forward. "It was lying around, and I thought it might relax you."  
  
            "Right," Hermione said wryly, blowing away a sugar cookie trying to force itself into her mouth. "Wait until the whole wizarding world hears that Draco Malfoy enjoys Muggle pop songs."  
  
            "Funny, I was under the impression that you avoid mentioning me in public," Draco said.  
  
            A long silence followed, its awkwardness mollified only by Nat King Cole's velveteen vocals. Presently, the song ended and Hermione spoke.  
  
            "Draco," she said hoarsely. "What's going on? Why are you keeping me here?"  
  
            Draco reached for one of the floating wine glasses. "Something to drink, Granger?"   
  
            "Draco....." Hermione repeated. "Why are you doing this?"  
  
            "What do you want me to tell you?" Draco asked irritably, squirming uncharacteristically. Hermione glanced at his fidgety fingers and straightened up out of her body bind.  
  
            "Tell me something true," she replied.  
  
            Draco thought for a minute, his nebulous eyes dark and brooding. Presently, he spoke up. "Why did you leave?"   
  
            "Why did I leave? If I remember correctly, you left me first," Hermione replied indignantly.  
              
            "You wanted to leave long before I told you I was going," Draco said. "Why weren't you happy?"  
  
            "I - "  
  
            "Why didn't you just go, Hermione? Why couldn't you just carry through with it?" Draco yelled, abruptly rising from the couch.   
  
            "Draco, I - "  
  
            "Instead, I had to break it off!"  
  
            "If you didn't want to break it off," Hermione growled heatedly, "Then why did you do it?"  
  
            "Because I only wanted you to be happy!" Draco roared, his marble-white features darkening into a deep scarlet. "I wanted to stay, I wanted to live each and every day loving you to eternity. You asked me once if I would do anything for you, Hermione, but the fact is, I couldn't. I could never make you happy, so I let you go."  
  
            "But you did make me happy," Hermione said tearfully, taking his hand and easing him back onto the couch. "Remember the first present you gave me?"  
  
            "The necklace," Draco said dully. "The one that took me forever to find."  
  
            "And when you entertained me during detention so I wouldn't feel so bad," Hermione continued, "And how you gave me rides on your broom so I wouldn't study so much, and how you married me in the snow on Christmas night."  
              
            Draco didn't smile or look up.   
  
            "And how you learned to make my favorite Muggle meals, like tacos and blonde brownies, and how you let me decorate our house so it looked nothing like Malfoy Manor. Don't you remember any of it, Draco?" Hermione pleaded.  
  
            "You were happy with the things I did for you, but you weren't happy with me," Draco remarked coldly, thrusting the wine at her. "Once again, I'm going to let you leave."   
  
            "You didn't even try to understand why I was unhappy! You just gave up!" Hermione replied heatedly, her blood boiling as it had when she'd left five years ago.   
  
           Without giving her a second look, Draco exited the room, leaving Hermione fuming alone on the couch. Numbly, she turned over the wine bottle and read the label.  
  
            _December 25th, 2000. DMHG._   
  
            Hermione choked back a bitter sob and climbed into the couch where her ex-husband had sat moments before.   
  
                                                                                     --------------  
           

            "What are you doing here?" Draco's loud exclamation startled Hermione, who, an hour later, was gazing at a tattered photograph. "I thought I told you to leave!"  
  
            Hermione tucked the picture back into her pocket and turned to face him. "I left without hesitation last time. I'm not about to do that again."  
  
            Kicking off her pumps, she climbed over the top of the couch and tumbled into Draco's arms. "You're wearing it," she sighed, stroking the dark fabric of his shirt.  
  
            "I'm glad you noticed," Draco whispered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He lowered his face to hers, but before he could kiss her, Hermione backed away.  
  
            "Draco," she said suddenly. "Why do you keep sending me Christmas presents?"  
  
            Draco smirked as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world. "You were the first person I ever bought anything for. I couldn't very well stop."  
  
            "I'll pretend I understood that," Hermione murmured, running her hand through his white-blonde hair. "But just for the record, I never did forget that day, or anything."  
  
            "I knew you wouldn't," Draco breathed, lowering her back onto the couch and kissing her fiercely.   
  
                                                                                    -----------------  
              
            Draco woke up the next morning to sounds of laughter and the raucous clanging of bells outside his window. _Right,_ he reminded himself. _It's Christmas day._   
  
            He threw off his blanket and found himself completely nude. The events of the previous night surged through him like a shot of Firewhiskey.   
  
            A sudden thought struck Draco, causing him to turn over and grab whatever happened to be nearest him. When his hand landed on Hermione's cool, bare shoulder he relaxed and the panic subsided.  
  
            Hermione awoke at his touch and pried open her mournful brown eyes. "Draco?" she murmured groggily.  
  
            "Merry Christmas," Draco whispered with a tenderness that caught Hermione by surprise. He felt her shiver and drew her nearer to him.  
  
            "Why did we do this?" Hermione asked plaintively, allowing him to stroke her hair. "You gave up on me long ago."  
  
            "Just like I lost your favor long ago," Draco replied. "Let's not think about it, Hermione....just live like we did those all years ago at Hogwarts when things first began."  
  
            "You don't understand, Draco," Hermione protested ruefully. "It goes beyond snow and broomstick rides in the moonlight....and....and things like last night. Underneath the romance, there's nothing."  
  
            Instead of replying, Draco leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, taking in her uncertainty and resentment the same way he'd done while they were together. "For one day, Hermione," he murmured. "Let's just say it doesn't matter."  
  
            So there they lay for the rest of the morning, taking in each other and blending his illusions and her disillusion until neither could be distinguished. And in the end, it didn't matter at all.

(1)  Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose - the more things change, the more they stay the same.

**A/N: **This was originally written for a challenge on livejournal (any holiday; they don't know what to get each other.)  Thanks for reading, and some feedback will be appreciated! Oh yeah, and thanks to Jess, who beta-ed this for me.


End file.
